


A Taste for the Illegal

by KuraraOkumura



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bank Robbery, M/M, Stealing, illegal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2553026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraraOkumura/pseuds/KuraraOkumura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. One-shot. Jean and Eren are pursued by the police after robbing a bank, and Jean tells Eren to hide in the backseat of their car while they wait for the police to pass. Eren wasn't expecting the other boy to hide…right on top of him. Things get a little steamy after that.</p><p>I do not, in any way, shape or form, encourage the act of robbing a bank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste for the Illegal

"Eren, will you come _on_! Bring your ass in here!" shouted Jean from the steering wheel.

"I'm here!" said Eren as he shot into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed behind him. He threw the bag he had in his hand in the back seat and turned to the other boy as he ripped off the gruesome Titan mask on his face. "What are you waiting for? Get a move on, horseface!"

Not rising to the insult, Jean put his foot down, and the two criminals shot off down the street just as the first police car appeared around the bend behind them.

"Shit," the fake blond growled, glancing in the rear-view mirror. "Somebody called the cops!"

"Well done," Eren drawled sarcastically, though anxiety still strained his voice, and he turned in his seat to see behind them. "Less talk, more driving!"

"What d'you think I'm doing, idiot?"

"Talking!" was Eren's irritable answer. "Shut your trap and get your foot off the brakes!"

For the second time in less than a minute, Jean did as he was told, but Eren was pulled too tight with adrenaline and nervousness to notice, much less comment about it. They sped through the streets, taking turns for the worst or the best without taking much time to think about it. Behind them, they couldn't decide if the police car's flashing and screaming sirens were getting closer or farther or just staying the same distance away. The bag of cash they'd stolen from the shop sat in the back seat where Eren had thrown it, mocking them with its idleness.

They didn't really remember why they'd started doing this; only that the excitement of doing something illegal and the thrill of being chased for it provided more than enough of a compensation for their boring college life. They'd done this several times already, the Titan masks on their faces providing more than enough cover for their identities, and they'd never gotten caught. It seemed the exhilaration of doing something like this would never wear off. None of their other friends were involved; Eren and Jean seemed to be the only ones with a taste for the forbidden. Mikasa was a rule-minion; Armin was too chicken to do something illegal, though he knew exactly where the two were when they pretended otherwise; Sasha would probably end up giving the money back of her own free will if they brought her with them; and Connie was too scared to get caught, though he too knew what they did. Eren and Jean figured all four of them would probably actually follow them if they'd known what they did with the money. They gave it back to the poor, quite simply. Distributed it among the homeless families they saw on the streets, dropped an inconspicuous note in the guitar case of a street musician, slipped a wad of money into the mattress of a sleeping man. That part felt about as pleasurable as the thrill of the illegal, though in a entirely different way.

"I think we're losing them," Eren said through gritted teeth, his eyes straining back to see the flash of colour that would indicate the cop car's presence.

"Then let's make sure," Jean bit out, then added, louder, "Hold on tight!"

He whirled into a narrow street bordered by high walls, leaving the deserted, winding streets behind. Dusk was falling, and the dwindling light of the sun failed to light up the street they'd just turned into, providing perfect cover for their old black Ford Fiesta. Tucking the car into the street's dead end, Jean acted quickly, cutting the engine, pulling the brakes and turning off the headlights.

"Get in the back," he mouthed to Eren. "On your back and duck your head!"

Eren did as he was told, scrambling up between the two front seats and shoving the money bag to the floor before lying down across the back, hands by his sides. He was still straining his ears for any sign of the cops, so he didn't pay attention to Jean until he felt the other boy lowering himself right on top of him. "The fuck are you doing," he hissed furiously, hands going up to grasp Jean's hips and push him back instinctively.

"Shhhh," Jean hissed back, covering Eren's mouth with a hand. He pressed himself down closer, winding an arm around Eren's waist and tucking his head between Eren's and the seat.

Eren opened his mouth to protest, but was cut short by the sudden wailing of sirens. He snapped his jaws closed, resigning himself to their new position as he watched the red and blue lights of the police car flash past against the walls of the darkened street. Jean squirmed on top of him, obviously uncomfortable, and Eren's breath came out in a _woosh_ as something dawned on him.

"Jean, you-"

" _Shhh_!"

Eren shut up, but his hands were still gripping his partner-in-crime's hips, and he didn't quite know what to do with them after what he'd just realized. He squeezed lightly, trying to get the older boy's attention down there. Jean's breath hitched against the other's neck, apparently having just realized the same thing Eren had.

"Shit," the blond swore quietly, but there wasn't much he could do about it now.

"What the fuck, Jean," Eren whispered furiously into his friend's ear. "What are you-"

"It's not you, okay?" Jean said angrily, keeping his voice low. "I get like this every time we do this."

Eren started. "Do…this? You mean every time we hide from the cops?"

"Every time we rob, do something illegal," Jean clarified, more angry at himself for having put himself in a position where Eren would notice than anything else. "It's not something I can control," he said defensively, though Eren hadn't said anything.

The brunet laughed, raising his hands in surrender and tucking them under his head. "Heh, I didn't say anything, Jean-boy. If that's what it takes to get you off, well, good for you!"

"Keep your voice down!" Jean urged him. "And don't '-boy' me, you brat!"

Eren hmphed. "Whatever."

Suddenly Jean's hand came up and covered the brunet's mouth, making him start and begin to protest. But Eren understood as soon as he heard the engine. The lights were gone and so was the siren, but it couldn't have been anyone else. The cops had turned back, and were quietly, noiselessly patrolling the streets.

Eren peeled Jean's fingers off his face, but instead of dropping it, kept the other's hand grasped in his as the two accomplices listened in silence. Jean's grip around him tightened reflexively – probably in a nervous movement – and Eren's hips were pulled flush against his, causing both of them to lose their breaths. Jean relaxed his arm immediately, but was too worried that any movement would get them noticed to remove it completely, and the damage was done. Now that Eren had felt him so close, there was no going back, and every part of their bodies that touched was felt more acutely than ever.

Jean's large hand against his lower back and half on his hip. The inside of the blonde's thighs, pressing against his own. His breath against his neck. Chest against chest, navel to navel…

…and crotch to crotch.

Eren lost his breath. His hands tightened on whatever it was they were holding at that moment – namely one of Jean's hands as well as the forearm not around his waist and under him. His heart started to beat faster, banging against his chest until he was sure Jean could do little but notice it. His breathing, once he'd recovered from the aftershock, began to quicken at the same rate that his body was heating up. And just as the foreboding sounds of the cop car's engine was fading away into the distance, Eren's hips snapped up, in one instinctive, unforgiving movement.

Jean moaned, body curling down and around Eren's under him, hand tightening and tensing around his hip in a corresponding pressure. The brunet felt as though his entire being was focusing down on one part of him only, his blood flowing down into his crotch and pushing it upwards, head rolling back, body arching desperately as he fought to keep in his own answering moan.

"Eren-" Jean growled into his neck, breath short and strained, "if you're doing this on purpose, I swear on your sister's head-"

"I'm not," Eren gasped, voice high-pitched and panicked. "Shit- Jean- I-"

"Fuck," Jean huffed for both of them – and then pulled Eren's hips flush against his.

Both boys let out loud moans, the brunet's head lolling back against the seat helplessly as Jean's rolled forward. Eren let go of Jean's hand and arm, hands going up instead to grasp the other's back as the fake blond rocked them against each other with savage abandon.

"What are you- What are we- _Fuck_ -" Eren wheezed brokenly, unable to speak as his fingers convulsed around the other's shoulders and his body was used mercilessly.

"I'll tell you what," Jean growled, voice feral. "I'm horny, you're horny. So shut your trap and let me do the work."

And how the hell could anyone argue with that?

So Eren let his jaw drop as Jean pumped their hips together, dicks swelling and pulsing with raw need as their open-mouthed pants got gradually louder and louder which each bewildered thrust. They ground and pushed and shook against each other, growled and wheezed and groaned until they'd both completely forgotten that they were supposed to be on the run from the cops. Eren's body was continually jerked up against Jean's hard and taller one, but he didn't mind in the slightest if his answering thrusts were any indication.

Jean's name rolled from the smaller man's lips in a continuous mantra. He could feel himself tittering on the edge, hard and straining and leaking cum against his boxers, and the thought that Jean was in the same state, and mostly because of him now, was driving him crazy. Eren's own thrusts became stronger, more insistent, more independent of Jean's movements as he gained in confidence and his need for release grew. They were panting, their breaths filling the small space with a hot spicy smell – the smell of sex.

Their movements were violent now, rough and demanding. Jean panted in his ear, arms cradling his upper body, legs tangled, body and soul focused on the one goal of _release_. Release, release, _release_. Pushed by instinct, one of Eren's hands came up – the right one –, tangling itself in blond and auburn hair. The it pulled, and Jean's head came up without resistance, and their mouths crashed together, forceful, searching, digging for more. It was messy, it was sloppy, but it was perfect. And when they hips clashed next, they both froze, in perfect harmony, mouths and tongues still together, breathing stopped as their release covered and liberated them, and the look on the other's face was what brought them to an even higher peak.

They collapsed on top of each other in the aftermath, breathing hard, arms around each other and not at all embarrassed by their proximity. They waited five minutes for their panting to subside, and for the lethargical chemical to seep out of their systems so that they'd want to move again – and they had to. They were still on the run; that couldn't be dismissed.

Finally, Jean breathed, "Fuck."

Eren grinned, all hesitancy forgotten. "Hell yeah." He gave a suggestive thrust of his hips.

"Eren!" Jean protested weakly, still too discouraged to move.

"I wonder – when did we go from Jaeger and Kirstein," he whispered, "to Jean and Eren?"

There was silence for a moment, and then Jean pulled his head up and stared at the brunet still under him. "You think too much."

"Maybe. Or maybe not." He stared back at the other man, frowning. "Jean," he said, "go out with me."

" _What?"_

"I said go out with me," Eren repeated, not about to lose his nerve.

Jean looked at him then, really looked at him, noted the flushed, post-coital face and the bite marks on the neck that he hadn't even noticed he'd made, and those wide green eyes that had so many girls and boys captivated. All those could be his. He couldn't say he'd never thought about it before, and his statement before that he got hard every time they did something illegal was only a half lie. He got hard every time he did something illegal with _Eren_. He'd wanted that boy – now man – ever since they'd started doing this – ever since he'd seen the determination and the ferocity on that face and in those stormy eyes when they escaped with their gain and went to give it back to charities or to the poor. They weren't any Robin Hood, but if anything they were Hansel and Gretel out to hunt. It turned him on. This _man_ turned him on. He leaned in.

"Fine," he said breathily, "but I'm warning you; _I top_."


End file.
